Clear Skies
by skywolf666
Summary: They were opposites, for all of their similarities, but such differences would never change the fact that they would always be family first and foremost. She shared all with him, and he was more than willing to listen and share what little he could in return, whether it be ideals, dreams, or musings on the life they lived as wandering mercenaries. (Prequel Fic, BylethxSibling.)


Block.

Parry.

Stab.

Block.

And repeat.

"You had that dream again."

The words brought hesitation, a brief moment's window that her sparring partner took immediate advantage of with a short thrust of his blunt training lance. Though little more than a long stick with a rounded tip, there was still excellent power behind the blow as it collided with her stomach and knocked the breath clear from her lungs while simultaneously buckling her knees. The younger of the two mercenaries hit the ground hard, winded and wincing, and she looked up at her brother with a mixture of surprise and a dull sort of annoyance at his underhanded move.

For his credit, Warin did not try to "finish" her as he watched her take a moment to collect herself from her failure. Raine held her stomach gingerly, making him wonder if he had accidentally put too much power behind the strike, but she was quickly forcing herself back to her feet and retrieving her wooden sword from where she'd dropped it when she fell. Her cool cerulean eyes regarded him warily as she took a moment to stretch her tense muscles, and she knew her surprise was wasted. He always seemed to know things without her needing to say a word, and she still wasn't sure if his insight annoyed or impressed her.

Her brother's sixth sense was renowned in their band, to the point where even their father trusted his judgement without much question or hesitation. He always seemed to know when a course of action would bring dire consequences, and he was always the first to know when something had gone wrong and cost them their advantage, or worse, a fellow mercenary on the field. His odd knack for sensing the worst before or when it came, along with his splendid grappling and lancing abilities had earned him his place as their father's lieutenant. No man in the mercenary band doubted his skills, her least of all, and it was with great trust and respect that he held his title alongside men twice his age and experience.

Rolling back her shoulders idly, Raine switched her sword from hand to hand as her fingers flexed around the worn hilt. This particular training sword was old and cracked. It would need to be replaced soon. She made a mental note to have it broken apart for firewood later before once again assuming her stance against her waiting elder brother. He cocked an eyebrow at her willingness to return to sparring so quickly, but he adjusted his own posture in kind even as she questioned, "How do you always know?"

"Your swordplay gets sloppy when you have that dream." Warin's answer was blunt and brisk, and he didn't miss a beat as his sister leapt for him without any preamble. She didn't need it, and nor did he as he caught her blow across the middle of his lance and absorbed it with little effort. She wasn't trying, but he wasn't either. It was merely exercise to distract from too much thought, and Warin was aware she needed the robotic rhythm more than she needed the training. "You get too into your own head to focus. Not that anyone else will notice, mind you."

It was a compliment, but it still was backhanded even if it was unintentional. Raine felt her jaw clench, and she had to resist the urge to put strength into her arms when she parried his blow rather than going for an attempt to disarm her elder brother in retribution for the slight. It wasn't as if he meant it. He never did. His way of speaking was simply blunt and to the point, and she was not much different than he was on that front. It was something they had inherited from their father, she supposed, though she doubted he was pleased with that particular character trait being passed on.

His words however were just a reminder of her newly-earned nickname. The "Ashen Demon" they called her. The whispers followed her whenever she made a rare appearance in camp, and it irked her beyond reason that they saw fit to name her behind her back and not call her as such to her face. It was not an embarrassing moniker for a young woman of seventeen, indeed, almost any mercenary would be happy to have a reputation to sell their sword by, but it discomforted her all the same. Demons were not creatures that she wished to have an affinity with. They delighted in suffering. Took lives with impunity and sadistic glee. That was not how she conducted herself at all.

Taking lives was simply the job. Showing mercy was an invitation for a swift death, for herself, or one of her father's men. Was she meant to pretend otherwise? What was the point? To relieve a few superstitious old men who were too wary, jealous, or discomforted by her ability to separate her feelings from the job at hand? Their emotions were not hers to coddle or heal. She was concerned with nothing but the safety of herself, her brother, and her father, and she has little intention of changing just to ease the tension of a few around her.

Another sweep of Warin's lance had her sword almost flying from her grip, and she tightened her hold ferociously in answer as she mentally chastised herself for her lack of focus. Already her dreams had left her unsettled enough for her brother to take notice, and now she was foolishly dwelling on a nickname that had little to no bearing on the reality of the world about her. He was right. She _was _being sloppy. Such behaviour would get her killed if she didn't rectify it immediately.

Warin's other eyebrow raised as he saw her knuckles whiten on the hilt of her practise blade. Her expression was still disarmingly neutral, but he had long since learned that there were many ways to read his sister beyond what she expressed with her face throughout their years together. She was not immune to showing her emotions through her body language, though even that was admittedly still a rare sight for her. She was not bereft of emotions entirely, but rather extremely subdued, and any sort of sign that she did show of something was one to be noted, and his brow furrowed as he began, "I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't."

It was a lie, of course, and she was a terrible liar. She didn't like hiding her true opinions as a general rule, no matter what the consequences could be for voicing her thoughts aloud. It was not a trait that endeared her well to their employers, and so she had learned quite early just to leave the speaking to her father. She was only grateful that her brother held similar principles, and was just as likely, if not moreso, of offending potential employers whenever he opened his mouth. His habit of speaking his mind had lost them a few jobs and earned him Jeralt's ire more than once, and he'd learned his lesson to be the silent and foreboding second-hand to his father rather than the opinionated young man that disliked social standing, and pompous nobles even more.

Indeed, Jeralt kept her away from most things, but she didn't really mind it. She was aware, in an odd sort of way, that she was being sheltered from the "outside" world. As much as a travelling mercenary could be sheltered, at any rate. She was never included in negotiations for employment, and more than once had been left behind in camp while her father and brother went on a mission. It was her father's will and so she never contested it, and in truth, she did enjoy her isolation. People were difficult, and she was not skilled in dealing with them by any means. Even fellow mercenaries, who were rough and tumble and foul-mouthed simply by nature were not easy for her to relate to despite all attempts to mimic the behaviour she had grown up around... Much to her father's consternation and Warin's never-ending amusement.

Still, it was done without malevolence, and so she found no reason to complain. Her father and brother were protective of her, and their reasons were their own. She did not need them to share their secrets, and she knew they had much they were keeping from her, as everything else they did spoke of their care. She was loved by them, perhaps even to excess, but she was never suffocated. She was permitted to fight alongside them, was never sent away, and so she was content with what she knew.

Another blow knocked her from her thoughts, and she wondered with irritation if Warin was making a deliberate attempt to provoke her. It wasn't wise of him if that was indeed his plan. Her temper was not easily pricked, nor easily satisfied once she was sufficiently angered. Perhaps that was why she was also called a demon, because her rages were a sight to behold even for a well-trained mercenary, but she didn't want to dwell on such things. Being angry was almost as uncomfortable as lying. It felt as if she was out of control when her temper reared its head, possessed by a wrath that would never be sated, and so she kept it down as fiercely as she could at all times. But if her brother had a talent beyond fighting, it was knowing her, and that only made her want him to stop talking all the more.

"Was it the girl again, or the war?"

As easily as he had begun to anger her he doused the flames with his question, and Raine felt the fight go out of her with a sudden exhalation. Her hands loosened on her blade, and this time Warin did not take advantage of her lapse. Instead he stood back, watching her closely, and she appreciated his decorum as her mind spun with those images that had been a centrepiece of her dreams for as long as she could remember. A small girl, a child, with long, flowing emerald hair and piercing eyes... and a massive battlefield, peppered by ten, glowing ruby-coloured lights and the screams of the dying and wounded as two gigantic forces clashed like the waves against the rocks.

Shaking her head, Raine let out another deep breath she had not been aware she had been holding at her brother's questioning. She had told him of her dreams before, and was not surprised that he knew them almost as well as she did. She had been having them ever since she was a child, and though she did not understand why, she had come to accept it as a strange part of her life that defied explanation. Even her father had been confused by her descriptions of both the girl and the battlefield she saw so vividly, but he was always patient and willing to listen each time she woke up confused and lethargic, like she had left her body during her dreams and was once again learning how to make it function upon waking. "It was the war this time... I don't know why it bothers me so much. I've seen many battlefields. Why would one in my dreams shake me?"

"I don't know." Warin replied truthfully, and he lowered his lance as he watched his sister's eyes flicker from side to side in memory of her dreams. He had seen it many times before, her vainly struggling to remember details from hazy images that she could barely remember when she woke, and it hurt him to see her so troubled and unable to help even a little bit to ease her woes. It'd been like this since her childhood, and he was only glad that she trusted him and Jeralt enough to tell them what a bother they were even if she never let that show on her face. "Nothing about it is familiar, right?"

"Not at all. I doubt I'd know where it took place if I was standing there myself." Raine replied with a shake of her head, and absently she turned the well-worn sword in her hand as her body itched for movement. She did not like to talk about this. It filled her with an unease that she was deeply unfamiliar with, and it made her wish for the battlefield _she_ knew, if only because that was where she was always in complete control. "If it took place, that is. It's... so clear when I dream. As if I'm seeing images from a book. But as soon as I wake, it slips away from me. Do I dream of war because I'm a mercenary? Or am I dreaming of it for some other reason? But if it's the latter, then why?"

Warin tilted his head as he wondered the same thing himself, and he had to admit the answers eluded him as much as the dream eluded his sister. She was not a religious woman by any means. She didn't believe in ghosts or spirits or gods, and that was without his and his father's effort to keep her well-shielded from the Church of Seiros. Of course, such things were impossible even in a mercenary band, and there would always be believers no matter where they travelled, but Raine had never shown the slightest interest in such things even when it was right in front of her. "I don't know. If you were dreaming of war because you're a mercenary... I'd think you'd be dreaming of the battles you've already fought, and with people you knew. Myself, father, or old members of his band. But that isn't the case. I don't believe it's tied to your occupation."

"That doesn't help." Raine's lips twitched into the faintest of a frown, and her eyebrows furrowed together as she agreed with his logic but found herself wanting more all the same. She was tired of these dreams, as much as she had accepted them as the usual for her. The sword in her hand twirled faster, and it was a concentrated effort to still her fingers, but she managed with another long exhale through her nose. She looked at the ground as if she could find the answers there, but of course there was nothing for her but the scuff marks of her and her brother's training for an answer. "And nobody I know or spoke to has ever heard of a girl like the one I dream of, either."

Warin found himself frowning again as his mind once more wandered tauntingly to the forbidden, and there was no helping the plume of anger that warmed his chest and made his left hand clench tightly about the hilt of his lance. His sister was already strange and vastly effected by whatever it was that the church had done to her, and it only seemed to be worsening as she grew older. While he admitted there were edges that had been softened as she aged, she was not as cold and distant as she looked if one put in the effort to get to know her, she was still a creature that defied explanation and made most normal people wish to avoid her out of sheer instinct.

Her difficulty in expressing emotion, her lack of a heartbeat, her unnatural talent for war, and now these dreams... What else would she be hounded by, regardless of how much distance they put between themselves and the church? Forcing her to live in ignorance for her own safety was not helping the things she was experiencing, and he dearly wished there was more he could do for her than rage silently at the life they lived because of the events of seventeen years ago. Maybe if their mother had lived, then life would be different, but such thoughts were not his to have.

"You're angry. I'm sorry that I'm interrupting our training with this talk. I don't want to be wasting your time."

The apology brought him roughly back to the present and away from his ill-tempered musings, and Warin felt a pang of guilt for being misread so horribly. He shook his head as he caught the glimpse of regret in his sister's eyes, and he was quick to dismiss it as he explained, "I'm not angry with you. I'm angry at myself. It's disappointing knowing that you're troubled and I can't do anything about it. Even if they are simply dreams, I want to be able to do something to help you feel better. Talking about it quite clearly isn't cutting it. Training isn't, either. I don't like being at a loss."

Despite herself, Raine felt the frown that had been on her face curving slightly upwards into a ghost of a smile at her brother's scathing view of himself and his inability to help her. She wasn't sure where he came up with such thoughts, and even less about how he wasn't any good to her. He was the only brother she had ever known, and she could only fight as well as she could because of the knowledge that in any and all situations he would have her back when she was, and wasn't, in need. She shook her own head this time, raising her eyebrows as she remarked with a trace of amusement, "That's strange, considering Father never allows you to speak to our employers. I thought being at a loss would be normal for you by now."

Warin chuckled at the well-placed jab, and was glad to see her humour leaking out, even if it was only out of concern for him. He rubbed at the back of his neck as he leaned on his lance, and he remarked with an errant wave of his hand, "That's different. He knows my opinions on nobles. It's best that I don't speak in front of them, if only to make sure we get the job they'd rather not dirty their own hands with. But that's simply the way the world works. The strong take advantage of the weak, and use them to their benefit. Until our position changes, it's an unfortunate reality I've come to terms with."

They were familiar words, but they unnerved her all the same in a strange sort of way that she couldn't entirely understand. Her brother's cynicism was not much of a secret, and his open disdain of nobility was also pretty well known. But it still rare that he gave open voice to his opinions when he knew how much it could discomfort a person, or worse, put them in a position of offending a potential employer or partner. And even then, Raine could not help but find it almost sad that her brother had no little faith in people, and it was reflected in her voice as she remarked quietly, "You really don't think very highly of nobility... Or humanity, for that matter, do you?"

"It's hard to find the good in people after all I've seen." Warin admitted with a little shrug, but his cerulean eyes hardened despite his blasé words and body language. He was still leaning on his lance like a cane, body relaxed and at ease, but the expression on his face was anything but. There was a hard line to his jaw, and a frozen quality to his gaze that reminded her eerily of herself whenever she caught a glimpse of her own blank expression in the mirror. "As a mercenary, I've learned a lot of things beyond just fighting. One of the first things I really learned was that the people with power don't care for the people without. The strong always use the weak, whether it be as shields, swords, or justifications for their behaviour. It's a cycle that's pervaded history. It's human nature. When I see that kind of thing time and time again... I can't find myself liking humanity very much."

"Not everyone fits into your worldview, though." Raine pointed out with a tilt of her head, and she was mildly surprised by her own willingness to debate her brother's opinions. Perhaps it was because his callousness about the world unnerved her, or perhaps it was because it seemed so at odds with his desire to help her just moments ago. And it prompted her to continue on with a wave of her hand, "You remember that time Father was hired by a nobleman to defend a village being ransacked by poachers in his territory, yes? What did that noble gain, protecting a small settlement that barely contributed to his land? I doubt it was very much. That wasn't done out of self-interest. And it was a powerful man protecting the weak. That hardly fits with what you're describing."

Warin nodded as he accepted that Raine's point had merit, though he couldn't help but smile as he noted her willingness to leap to the defence of humanity by taking a completely opposite stance as he did. It wasn't that strange of her, a lack of expressiveness did not mean a lack of emotions, but she wasn't one to argue with him unless she felt it necessary. For that and that alone he admitted with a hint of laughter playing at the corners of his mouth, "You're right about that. My rule has plenty of exceptions, and that case was definitely one of them. But I don't think I'm entirely wrong, all the same. Not every noble is obsessed with power, or abuses it... and not every commoner wants power in order to climb the social ladder. But I think the exceptions are still rare enough that the rule stands well enough on its own. It's a delicate balance for certain, either way."

"But you're still going to be pessimistic, aren't you?"

The cutting question did succeed in getting a chuckle out of him, inappropriate as it was as Raine looked at him with raised eyebrows and an almost accusatory look in her eyes. He would not lie. He was almost as bad at it as she was, though he probably admitted that his poker face was better than her own if he needed to. She always had the slightest curl to her lip when she was trying to say something dishonest, as if her own body was rejecting the attempt to lie, and he has no such issues to contend with. He simply nodded, folding his lance into his shoulder as he answered her honestly, "Yes, I am. It's a safer way to live in this world. At least, it's safer for me. I won't ask you to do the same. Just because we're siblings doesn't mean we need to share the same views on how the world works. It's better if our viewpoints differ."

"On such a thing? I can't say I agree there, either." Raine shook her head as she wondered at his easy tone. On one hand, it was easy comfort t hear him say that he did not expect her to believe in his ideals, but on the other she was more than aware how differing outlooks caused tension, and more often than not, bloodshed. She was a mercenary, after all. That lesson was one that she had quite literally cut her teeth on, and she pointed it out none too gently, "Those kinds of clashing ideals tend to lead to bloody conflicts."

"That's also true. And if I were to tell you that because we're family I'd never turn against you, you could pull almost a thousand examples in history of the exact opposite happening." Warin agreed with a nod, and his smile turned slightly melancholy despite himself. He was a keen student of history, mostly due to his father's urging of needing to understand the world they lived in, and the very idea of turning his blade on his sister made his stomach clench in a very painful way. Still, he could not help but extend his hand as he offered her almost in an offhanded manner in order to disguise his sadness, "Would you trust me if I said it anyway? That no matter what, even if our ideals are to clash for the rest of our lives, that I'd always be on your side?"

Raine's eyes narrowed at the question, and despite herself, she allowed her body to react before her words could. Her sword swung out in a clear arc, taking out the lance that Warin had been leaning on and sending her elder brother stumbling from both surprise and a lack of support. He went down hard, landing ungracefully on his backside in the dirt, and Raine angled her blade under his chin with an easy flick of her wrist as he looked up at her in surprise. Her voice was curt, unamused by his tone and the topic as she answered him, "That's an idiotic thing to say. When would I ever not trust you? We're family, aren't we? I don't care what history has taught you. If we ever crossed blades with an intent to kill, I think Father would bury us both himself."

Warin couldn't help it. Both her tone and her completely effortless show of manhandling him made him snort with mirth as he watched her staring coldly down at him in reproach. It was strange, seeing their positions so completely reversed from the way they had been when she had first been born and he had known nothing but hatred for the infant his mother had traded her life for. Now, seventeen years later, he had completely taken his father's words to heart. She was the last gift his mother had given them, and there was absolutely nothing he would not do for her. "You're right, again. Father would bury us long before we ever could hurt one another just because of a difference of opinion. So I guess it's good that we're merely talking in hypotheticals, and you're no longer focussed on that dream of yours, eh?"

There was a beat of silence, and Warin had to admit it was dearly precious to him as his sister struggled quite visibly for a response as his ruse came to light. Her eyes flashed with annoyance, with fond exasperation, and she looked almost as if she wanted to make an attempt at trying for his head despite the lack of an edge on her practise sword. She didn't let him stand and he didn't dare to try, but it was an effort to stop himself from smiling up at her when she finally found her words and asked flatly in an effort to disguise her mixture of outrage and embarrassment, "... Did you go on that whole tirade _just_ to distract me?"

"If it worked, I'm going to say yes. If it didn't... can you at least let me stand up before we have another bout?"

"You're impossible..."

**AN:**

**As soon as I finished The Flower's Last Gift, I had to keep rolling on, apparently. I'm not sure if it's a sign of the bug, but a piece of writing has appeared, so I'll just deal with it. Anywhosit, this piece is the last "prequel" of sorts, and is mostly serving as a bridge between the introductory fic with Warin and Raine and the eventual work that will continue on where Three Houses begins. I wanted to showcase some growth, as well as the siblings' relationship and their personalities before going on ahead with my more canon-focussed work. Diving right in without really giving a feel for my characters doesn't really work for me anymore, so I do apologize for the wait as I get around to the "real stuff".**

**I'm afraid that I'm still not going to disclose the route I'll be writing for, since I find it to be more fun to keep things secret. Again, I will stress that I have played all four routes, so I do know pretty much everything that happened in-game, but like most players, I do have a favourite route, and a favourite lord. Whether or not this turns you off from my work or not once I start getting into it, I do apologize in advance. Three Houses has proven to be a rather divisive game, with plenty of divisive characters, and I'm keenly aware of this as a member of the fandom.**

**However! That is not to say you should be wary of any bashing. I intend to keep my own personal feelings mostly out of my writing, and work only on what my characters will be feeling, and how they will react to the situations they are in. I don't want my writing to be toxic, and I never want to use it as a platform to hate on any given character or route. I will be trying my best to stick to the "traditional" character sets of the house I choose to write for (with perhaps one or two exceptions), but whether or not I address the war itself, student death, etc is still really up in the air. It's hard to say where I want to take this project, but I will do what I can with what I can.**

**With all that said, again, please leave me a review if you're interested in what else I have up my sleeve, and thank you again for sticking with me through my rambling author's note. It's nine am and I haven't slept. At all. I've been so stressed out this week that my sleep cycle flew out the window while singing the Cha Cha Slide.**

**Mood: Overtired.**

**Listening To: "Over The Hills And Far Away" - Nightwish**

**~ Sky**


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